Warning
by Sassafrass86
Summary: A particularly gruesome case calls for Charlie's help in finding the killer, but Don is wary of his younger brother's involvement. T for brief mention of rape, rating may go up in later chapters no graphic descriptions. FIRST CHAPTER REWRITTEN, PLEASE RR.
1. Let It All Out

**Title: **Warning

**Author: **Erika (aka Sassafrass86)

**Summary: **A particularly gruesome case calls for Charlie's helps in finding the killer, but Don is wary of his younger brother's involvement. (T for brief mentions of rape, rating may go up in later chapters; no graphic descriptions) Please R/R. AU.

**Spoilers: **Squint and miss it from 1x09 Sniper Zero

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Jamie Huntington and Geoffrey Pearce are mine, but sadly, I own no rights to _Numb3rs_, Rob Morrow, or David Krumholtz. Nor do I own Charlie, Don, Terry, etc. The only character I can take credit for right now is Geoffrey Pearce, and that is not exactly a thrilling prospect. All rights belong to CBS and the Ridley brothers. But really, can't I have David just for one day? He's just spectacular.

**Author's Note: **This fic was posted last year, and I became very unhappy with it. However, due to the overwhelming number of reviews I've received, all of them positive, I've decided to continue with it. Thank you all so much for this response, I was very shocked that I received 49 reviews for one chapter that I didn't even feel satisfied with. I have changed things around in the story, so even if you've read the first chapter before, you may want to read it again to figure out what the changes are. Thank you so much for reading, everyone, I love you all!

**Special Thanks to: **GSister for helping calculate some particulars, regarding numbers and story.  
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FBI Agent Don Eppes sat back in his desk chair, groaning in frustration at his latest case, featuring a serial rapist-turned-murderer. His partner, Terry Lake, took notice of his actions and patted him on the shoulder.

"Don, you've been studying those files for almost 24 hours straight," she said with sympathy. "Go home for a little while, get some sleep."

Don shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked up at his partner. "We've got to get this guy, Terry."

"I know. We will," she assured him. She hesitated before approaching her next subject. "Listen, Don..." She trailed off, as if unsure how to continue her thought.

Don raised an eyebrow at Terry's elusiveness. "What?"

"Charlie."

Don shook his head again, this time much more forcefully. "No."

"Don--"

"_No_!" Don said again, pushing his chair away from his desk. "Absolutely not, Terry."

"Don, listen! Just listen, okay? Charlie can easily come up with an equation with all the variables we have on this case so far, you know that."

"This case is too dangerous."

Terry rolled her eyes. "As if all our cases aren't? He almost got shot when we dealt with the sniper."

Don glared at her, and she stared right back, her eyes fierce and challenging. Don groaned, letting his head fall back. "You know this one's different." He looked back up at Terry. "Charlie's just a kid, I don't want him on this."

"He's a grown man," Terry argued. "He can make his own decisions."

"He still lives with our father," Don challenged.

"I lived with my parents until I was twenty-six," Terry shot back. "And it's _his_ house now, isn't it?"

Don opened his mouth to argue, but paused. "You lived with your parents until you were twenty-six?"

"Don't change the subject," Terry replied with a small smirk. "Why won't you even consider asking Charlie if he wants to do this?"

Don sighed. "He's my little brother. _I_ don't want him... This isn't his responsibility, it's mine."

"You can't protect him from everything, Don," Terry said quietly, though with understanding. "He's already seen a lot of it."

"Exactly," Don answered. "But what I _can_ protect him from, I will."

"I know how you feel about this case, but I am positive that Charlie could be a big help to us. Can't you just ask him?"

"Why are you pulling so hard for Charlie to do this? Can't we just find someone else?"

Terry crossed her arms. "Oh, sure, Don, let's get someone else. Do you happen to know any of our other colleagues who happen to have a genius mathematician brother living less than an hour away from FBI headquarters?"

Don crossed his arms over his chest. "We can have one shipped in from Washington, if that'll make you feel better," he said drolly.

"Don!" Terry cried, exasperated. "I swear, if you don't ask him, I will."

Don held his hands up in the air in mock surrender. "Fine, I'll ask him."

Terry glanced over him, doubtful. "You will?"

"Yes. In fact," he said, rolling up his sleeve to take a false glance at his watch, "I'll go over to the house right now, get down on my knees and tell him that my partner simply can't live without--"

"Don."

"I'll ask him, Terry. I promise," Don said sincerely. "Just don't, you know, get your hopes up or anything."

Terry smiled. "Thank you." She paused. "You should go home. It's late."

"Yeah, I'm going to swing over to my dad's, check up on him and Charlie."

"Tell them I said hi," Terry said as she started walking from the desk. She paused and turned to face her partner again. "Hey, Don?"

"Yeah?" Don replied, glancing up from the file in his hand.

"He knows what he's doing," she told him. "Charlie, I mean. He's really not a kid anymore." With a finishing nod, Terry turned back once more and walked off. Don looked after her, watching until she pushed through the double glass doors at the end of the hallway. He tossed the file on his desk and shut down his computer before standing. He glanced down at a picture next to the computer, which displayed a ten-year-old Charlie, who was wearing an over-sized high school graduation cap and gown, standing with a beaming seventeen-year-old Don, dressed in the same style. The older brother smiled to himself as he remembered the day of the their graduation, but felt the familiar twinge of annoyance and envy at the younger man's genius, then the guilt that always followed. He shook his head to rid himself of his thoughts and began his walk out of the building.

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Don unlocked the door to his childhood home and stepped inside. "Hello?" he called, shutting the door behind him.

He peeked into the den first, but upon finding nobody there, he continued into the kitchen, only to find that the lights were off. Confused, he switched the lights on, his eyes meeting a digital clock built into the stove, which flashed the time. 12:39 AM. No wonder nobody was awake. Don laughed weakly to himself, surprised that he hadn't realized how late it was. He must have been more focused on this latest case than he had thought. The quiet was interrupted when a tired voice called his name.

"Donny?"

The agent immediately turned around, coming face-to-face with his younger brother, who was rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Don relaxed, closing the space between them to ruffle the younger man's wildly curly hair. "Hey, buddy."

Charlie rolled his eyes as he pulled away from Don's touch. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Don sighed. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"So what are you doing here?" Charlie asked again.

Don shrugged. "Just dropped by to check on you and dad." 

"You don't have to, you know," Charlie replied, a cheeky grin working its away across his handsome features. "It's a very safe neighborhood, and we lock the doors every night." 

"Don't mock me," Don said. "You know I like to come by."

"Yeah, I know." The brothers stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen until Charlie broke the silence. "You want something to eat?"

"Nah," Don answered. "Sit down, I'll make us some coffee." Charlie did as he was told as his brother bustled about the kitchen. "So, uh...What'd you do today?"

"Not much," Charlie said. He paused. "I ran into Jamie Huntington today, at the park." He nervously watched for his brother's reaction. Don stopped what he was doing for a split second before placing a filter into the coffeemaker.

"Did you?" Don said, his voice eerily stoic.

"Yeah," Charlie replied. "She, uh... She was asking about you."

"What'd you tell her?"

"Just that you've been doing well, working hard... I didn't talk to her for very long."

Don grunted in response. He looked over his shoulder and gave Charlie a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm not upset."

Charlie bit his lower lip. "Are you sure?"

Don shrugged. "Jamie and I have been done for years now, Charlie. I know this is going to make me sound like a teenager, but I'm over it."

"But you were so in love with..."

"Charlie," Don snapped. He quickly recovered when he saw Charlie tense. "Look, it was a long time ago. Was I upset then? Of course. But it's over and done with, and I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Okay," Charlie quietly agreed. Silence filled the room again as Don went back to watching the coffee, and Charlie stared at the table before him.

"What on earth are you two doing?" a new voice questioned. Don and Charlie immediately turned to find their father standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

"Dad!" Charlie exclaimed, scraping his chair back. "I'm sorry, did we wake you?" 

"Yes," Alan replied with a playful gruffness, patting his youngest son on the back, "but don't worry about it." He looked to his older boy. "What are you doing here?"

Don laughed. "We really need to work on our formalities," he commented.

"Son, if it were any other time of day, I would be happy to see you. But it's almost one in the morning, and you've woken both me and your brother up. Make sure I get a cup of that coffee, will you?" Alan said, seemingly all in one breath and without hesitation, as he retired himself into a chair next to Charlie.

Don nodded, reaching for another mug from the cabinet. "Sorry about my timing."

"He came by to check on us," Charlie told his father, repeating Don's previous explanation.

"Mmhmm," Alan grumbled. He directed his next question to Don. "FBI overworking you?"

"No," Don replied, "no, I'm the one who's overworking me. This case we're working on, it's... Well, it's just been kind of rough."

"I see."

"Terry says hi, by the way." Don poured the now fresh coffee into three separate cups and carefully carried them to the table, making himself comfortable in his usual seat. The three men sat in silence, all drinking their hot beverages while shooting each other awkward smiles and glances.

Charlie thoughtfully chewed on one of his fingernails. "So you're having a hard time with the case?"

Don narrowed his eyes toward his brother. "Yeah. We might need your help."

Charlie's eyes brightened. "I don't mind!"

"Look, Charlie," Don sighed. "I know you like consulting for us, and we all really appreciate it, but..."

"Don," Alan prompted his oldest son, sensing Don's caution. "What is it?

"The thing is," Don continued, "this case is pretty gruesome, Charlie. I'm not sure I want you in on it."

A puzzled expression crossed Charlie's features. "Then why'd you even ask me to help?"

"Terry wanted me to."

"Oh." Charlie exchanged a quick glance with his father, who returned a small shrug. "Don, I...If you need my help, I'm more than willing to give it. I always am."

"I know that, buddy."

"What's so different about this case that you don't feel comfortable with me being onboard?"

Don paused. FBI cases were not to be spoken about, but then again, Charlie _did_ have clearance from the NSA. He glanced at his father, who held his hands up in the air in mock surrender.

"I'm going back to bed," Alan announced, finishing off the last of his coffee. He looked up at Don. "You'll be sleeping here tonight, then?"

Don nodded. "If you don't mind."

Alan shrugged. "It's Charlie's house," he replied, eliciting a snort from his youngest child. Alan grinned before standing. "Good night, boys."

"Good night, dad," the brothers said in unison, watching as the eldest Eppes retreated back to his bed. As soon as they heard his door shut, Charlie turned back to Don.

"What's going on?"

Don wrung his hands together, not really knowing where to begin. "You've heard about Geoffrey Pearce, right?"

"Pearce... Yeah, I heard about him on the news. He's a suspect for a murder, right?"

Don sighed. "_Murders_, actually. Charlie, this Pearce guy, he's... Well, he's very slimy." Charlie raised an eyebrow at his brother's word choice, but allowed him continue. "In the last three weeks, he's beaten, raped and killed two college students and two professors." Don released a shaky breath as he watched his brother.

"God," the young man breathed. "Those poor women."

Don winced. "That's the thing, Charlie. They weren't just women."

Charlie's reaction--which had gone from complete puzzlement to slow comprehension to, finally, realization--would have been comical had the issue not been so grim.

"Wait, you're saying that this Pearce has been... attacking women _and_ men?" Charlie asked, fighting back a sudden bout of nausea.

"Yes."

"And...All these people attend or work at universities?"

Don nodded. "Can you see why I don't want you involved in this?"

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, soaking in this new information. "How has this not been released to the public? As far as I'd heard, Pearce was suspected of one murder, not four."

Don nodded. "We're keeping a lot of things under wraps until we can get more of a solid hold on this guy. He's our best--and _only_--suspect."

"And that's where I would come in?"

Don nodded again. "But Charlie, listen to me. In no way, shape or form do I want you to feel like you have to do this, do you understand?"

Charlie met his brother's concerned eyes. "I understand," he replied after a moment. "But I'd still like to help."

Don closed his eyes and sighed in defeat, leaning back with his coffee mug in hand. "I was afraid you'd say that." His eyes fluttered back open, and he locked his gaze with Charlie's. "Are you sure?"

Charlie gave his brother a small smile. "I trust you, Don."

Don attempted to smile back, but couldn't find the strength. "Charlie, I..."

"I'm getting a little tired," Charlie interrupted, standing from his chair. Don looked up in surprise, following suit.

"Right," Don replied, "it's late, you should get some sleep."

Charlie nodded in agreement. He gave Don another smile. "I'll see you tomorrow. Bright and early."

"Okay," Don answered, not knowing what else to say. He patted Charlie's arm before taking the younger man's coffee cup and turning to the sink.

"Good night, Don," Charlie said as he started out of the kitchen.

"Night," Don called back. "Charlie?"

Charlie immediately stopped when he heard his name, his questioning eyes making contact with Don's. "Hmm?"

"Don't think about it, okay?"

Charlie blinked, taking a brief second to comprehend what Don meant. When understanding washed over him, he nodded, though it was nearly imperceptible.

"Okay."

Without another word, the Charlie made his way up the stairs and back to his room, leaving Don standing alone in the kitchen, watching as the sink water overflowed his little brother's cup. Don turned the handle of the sink off and leaned against the counter, thinking about what had just come about. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out images of Charlie being the next victim in the string of crimes.

"Get a grip," Don chided himself, making his way to the couch in the living room and switching off the kitchen lights on his way out. "Nothing's going to happen to him."

TBC...


	2. For You I'm Dying Now

**Title: **Warning

**Author: **Erika (aka Sassafrass86)

**Summary: **A particularly gruesome case calls for Charlie's helps in finding the killer, but Don is wary of his younger brother's involvement. (T for brief mentions of rape, rating may go up in later chapters; no graphic descriptions) Please R/R. AU.

**Spoilers: **Squint and miss it from 1x09 Sniper Zero

**Disclaimer: **Sadly, I own no rights to _Numb3rs_, Rob Morrow, or David Krumholtz. Nor do I own Charlie, Don, Terry, etc. The only character I can take credit for right now is Geoffrey Pearce, and that is not exactly a thrilling prospect. All rights belong to CBS and the Ridley brothers. But really, can't I have David just for one day? He's just spectacular.  
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The moment Don walked through the doors to his floor of the FBI building, he was met by his partner.

"Terry, what is it?" Don asked, seeing the solemn look on her face. She walked with him down the hall, sporadically clicking the pen she held in her hand.

"There was another victim."

"_What_?" Don demanded, stopping in his tracks. Terry nodded to confirm. "Jesus...Who was it?"

"Michael Bowman," Terry told him as they continued walking toward the office. "He was a student."

"What college?" Don asked, his brow knit. Terry hesitated, causing him to stop again. "Terry?"

She let out a deep sigh. "CalSci."

Don held her gaze for a moment, his eyes pleading with her, begging her to say it was a joke. "CalSci," he whispered, more to himself than to Terry.

"Hey, guys," another voice called. Don looked up to see his Charlie walking toward him, feeling his stomach drop. At Don's expression, Charlie frowned. "Is something wrong?" Don gripped Charlie's shoulder, worrying the younger man. "Don, what..."

"Charlie, there was another murder last night."

Charlie swallowed hard, dreading what Don was going to say next. "Who?" he asked shakily.

"His name was Michael Bowman, he...Charlie?" Don immediately became concerned when the color drained from his brother's face. Terry grabbed a chair from the nearest desk, accepting a grateful nod from the elder Eppes brother as he sat his brother down.

"Michael's dead?"

"You knew him?" Terry asked sympathetically.

Charlie slowly nodded his head. "Not very well, but he...he was in one of my classes last year, he was an excellent student..."

Don lightly shook his brother. "Charlie, it's okay, just take a deep breath."

Charlie looked up at the older man, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I don't understand, Don, why...Why him?"

Don bit his lip. "I don't know yet, buddy. But we're going to figure it out, alright?" He hesitated before continuing, "With your help, we're going to figure this out. Okay?"

Charlie stared at Don for a moment before replying. "Okay," he whispered.

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An hour later, Charlie was hard at work, trying to create an equation for the case. He had been given all the data that had been gathered so far. Pearce's victims were killed in a seemingly specific pattern, one that had been broken by the last murder. The victims seem to have been paired off. One college student, one professor. Each of the same gender, each from the same college. The first pair had been Andrea Harper and Professor Leslie Cullen of Bryman College. The next pair were Patrick Bateman and Professor Gregory Togo of USC. According to the most likely pattern that had held so far, the next victim should have been a female student. But Michael Bowman, now the fifth victim, didn't fit. Charlie brought his Expo marker to his mouth. Why had Pearce changed course? He turned to Don and Terry, who were sitting patiently behind him.

"Maybe he's starting a new pattern," Charlie thought aloud.

"Why would he bother?" Don asked.

"To throw us off," Terry suggested. "Keep us off his trail."

"Well, it's working," Don muttered, lightly pounding the table and leaning back in his chair.

Charlie tapped the marker against his chin, pacing in front of the white boards. "Female, female, male, male... Male. Why? Is he getting desperate? Killing anyone he can find?"

Don shook his head. "If he really wanted to, he could find a female college student walking around at night."

"Well, that's the thing," Charlie replied. "Does he _want_ to? He's killed five people already, maybe he's getting bored, trying to mix things up."

Don shifted in his chair, uncomfortable with hearing his younger brother trying to get into the mind of a killer. "Charlie..."

"Maybe," Charlie interrupted, "there is no pattern at all."

Terry raised an eyebrow. "Charlie, there's a very obvious one right in front of us."

The math genius held up a contradictory finger. "Not necessarily. Had the fifth victim been a woman, we might have found a pattern. And even if there _was_ a clear pattern, there isn't one anymore," he explained. Terry glanced at Don, who shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. Charlie stopped in front of a board, staring at the numbers he had scribbled down. "Maybe he's changing his whole agenda."

"Well," Don said, standing, "there are too many 'maybes' in this situation. We need to get something solid so we can find this guy."

Charlie looked over his shoulder. "I'm working on it," he said, almost defensively.

Don sighed. "Listen, Charlie, I know you're upset about Bowman. If you need to go home, then..."

"No," Charlie said harshly, turning back to the board. "I'm fine. We're going to figure this out, right?"

Don exchanged glance with Terry, who had concern etched on her face. He walked toward his brother, taking his arm. "Charlie, we're going to find him, okay? Don't worry."

Charlie let out a wry laugh. "This guy killed a student at the school I teach at last night." His deep brown eyes locked with Don's as he whispered, "I'm afraid, Donny."

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"What's the connection?" Don demanded angrily for the umpteenth time in an hour and a half. He threw the file of the fourth victim, Professor Togo, down on the table, bringing his hands to his temples. David Sinclair sighed, understanding Don's frustration.

"Let's go through it again," David said.

"We've gone through it God _knows_ how many times already!" Don snapped. "All we have is what we started with."

"Maybe we're overlooking something," Terry suggesting, giving Don a distinct warning glare.

Don sat back. "Where do you think we should start?"

"Well," David started, "what do we know about the victims? We know that Andrea Harper majored in History, Patrick Bateman majored in Film and Television, and Michael Bowman majored in Mathematics."

"But the professors didn't teach the same majors as the students who were killed," Don pointed out. "The professors don't match up to the students." He silently thanked God or whoever else was listening for that detail.

"Yes," David agreed, "but Professor Cullen transferred from USC to Bryman."

"And why would that make her a target for murder?"

David's shoulders slumped there, unable to come up with a valid answer. "I have no clue."

A vacant silence filled the room as each agent ran over the cases in their minds yet again.

"Okay," Don said, followed by a long sigh. "We have Harper, Bateman, and Cullen all having some sort of involvement with each other. Bateman was in Cullen's psychology class while she taught at USC. So we have the first three victims connected."

"Right," Terry confirmed. "So maybe the connections have to do with the teachers?"

Don nodded, losing himself in thought. "But if that's the case, why would Pearce even bother to kill the students?"

"Maybe to add salt to the wound?"

"We'd have to assume, then, that each victims somehow knew each other. We know the second and third knew each other, but what about the first?"

Terry reached for the Harper's file. "Let's see this again... Majored in English, involved with the women's division basketball team... I'm not seeing anything that would connect her to _any_ of the victims, other than the common school with Cullen."

Don drummed his fingers against his temples. "Maybe we're going about this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" David asked.

Don bit his lip, thinking. "Maybe the connection isn't within the victims...Maybe it's with Pearce."

Terry straightened in her chair, her interest piqued. "You mean he's choosing victims based on what he has in common with them?"

"Exactly."

The three agents pondered this possibility for a moment before Terry spoke again. "Well, we need to figure out what Pearce's motive is soon. He's going to strike again, and now that the pattern is broken, we have no idea who he might try to kill next."

"There are agents posted at CalSci, right?" Don asked, breathing a sigh of relief when Terry nodded.

"Don't worry, Don," Terry said, knowing fully well what was running through Don's head. "Charlie will be fine."

Don looked taken aback at Terry's forwardness, but he quickly recovered. "Yeah, I know. Nothing's going to happen to him."

There was a pause. "How's he taking Bowman's death?" David asked.

Don shrugged. "He said he wants to go to the funeral, but I'm not sure that's going to happen."

"Why?" Terry questioned.

"Charlie is very... He doesn't deal with tragedy well," Don explained.

"Nobody does," Terry reminded him.

"Okay," Don conceded, "but Charlie especially. Look, I just... Charlie's scared, and if I'm going to be honest, so am I. So I need _something_ to go with on Pearce. We just need to find him before anything else can happen."

Silence took over the room again. After a moment, another agent popped his head through the door.

"Don, there's a phone call for you," the agent said.

Don nodded. "I'll take it." He stood to take the phone, followed by Terry and David. "Eppes."

"Hello, Agent," a voice answered.

Don furrowed his brow. "Who is this?" That caught Terry and David's attention, and they moved closer to Don, who held a hand up, silently telling them to wait.

"This is the man you've been looking for," the voice replied, a thread of sadistic excitement threaded through his voice.

"Pearce." Terry and David widened their eyes, clamoring to get the other agents to set up a trace for the call.

"That's right."

"Why are you calling?"

"I trust you've discovered my latest work."

"Bowman."

"That's the one."

"You're sick," Don spat.

Pearce chuckled. "That I am, Agent Eppes. I have a question for you."

"What's that?"

"How is your brother doing?"

Don froze. His eyes scanned the office, but Charlie, as expected, was nowhere in sight. "You son of a bitch, I swear, if you touch him..."

"He's having lunch with a friend, Agent Eppes," Pearce interrupted calmly. "Professors Eppes and Fleindhart. Both teach at CalSci, am I correct?"

Don swallowed hard. "Leave him alone."

"Your brother is _very_ attractive," Pearce continued. "And so young, too. Cullen and Togo were a bit older than my taste, but they were good enough. But Charles... He is a true catch."

Don cringed, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn't even think of anything to threat Pearce with anymore, his thoughts were only on Charlie. "Please, leave him out of this."

"He's a real genius, your brother. He's helping you on this case, is he not?"

"No," Don lied. "No, he's not, he has nothing to do with this, just stay away from him."

Another chuckle. "Lies will get you nowhere, Agent Eppes. Don't worry. I promise I won't kill him."

Don opened his mouth to respond, but was met with nothing but the sound of the dial tone. _I promise I won't kill him_. The words rang through Don's head. He felt a hand on his arm and jumped in surprise, turning to see a worried Terry.

"Did we get the trace?" he asked.

Terry lowered her gaze to the floor and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Don, the connection was scrambled. It was an untraceable call."

"Of course it was," Don murmured, rubbing his chin.

"Don..."

"I need to get to Charlie," Don said. He pulled his keys from his pocket and strode to the door.

"Don!" Terry called after him, but he did not stop. He flipped open his phone and dialed Charlie's number. After a few rings, Don's worry was alleviated for a brief few seconds.

"Hello?"

"Charlie!" Don exclaimed.

"Don? Is something wrong?"

"Charlie, where are you?"

"Uh, I'm eating lunch with Larry at Su Casa, why?"

"Stay there, I'm coming to pick you up."

"What? Don, what's going on?"

"I can't explain right now, Charlie," Don replied, reaching his car. "Just stay put until I get there, okay?"

Charlie groaned. "Fine."

"Okay, I'll see you soon." He ended the call without waiting for a response and started the engine.

TBC


End file.
